May 2011

Last night we asked Suliet if it would be possible for Eduardo to pack lunches for us today so we would not have to come back to the Avalon to eat. The end of the week is quickly approaching and we’re all becoming more aware of exactly how few hours we have left on the water and we want to make the most of it. Suliet said it would not be a problem. She would instruct Eduardo to make up some sandwiches in the morning and she would tell the guides that we would go out fishing after a morning dive and stay out the entire day.

The boys got back from diving around ten and by ten-thirty we were back out on the water fishing for bonefish. In the past we have had our lunches on an old lobster barge parked in the mangroves but the last hurricane that came through the Jardines a couple of years ago sank the barge. Instead the guides had decided that we would gather around one or so on a little island where there was once a fisherman’s hut, built long, long ago. The guides have carved out an area on the white sand where the hut was and have used the scrap to set up a little impromptu benches and a table. They’ve also hung a couple of hammocks from trees in the shade right down on the beach.

I was fishing with Cam and Fletch was with Greg. Hardy and Nick were off somewhere with Jimmi, looking for tarpon, and we weren’t sure they’d make it back to the island so they took their own lunches and sure enough we didn’t see them. It was a fine spot for a picnic. There was just enough speckled shade to keep the hot sun off of you and the sand beneath our feet was white and fine. By the time Cam and I got there, Fletch and Greg were already eating. We had some cheese sandwiches and rice with chicken and cold Kristal beers. After eating, Fletch and Cam made hollow spots in the sand and stretched out under the shade. Keko and Coki swung in the hammocks, chattering in Spanish, talking about the areas they’d taken us to go fishing and what we’d seen. A couple of hermit crabs came by while everyone was taking a little siesta, carrying their homes on their backs, looking for scraps from our sandwiches.

I was just about ready to fall asleep in the shade when Coki came up and said it was time to go. “Five minutes more,” I said, keeping my eyes closed. He looked at the rest of the boys who were all conked out as well. “Okay,” said Coki. “Just five minutes.”

And sure enough, in exactly five minutes Coki was back, gathering up the garbage and the leftovers from our lunch. Time to go, he said. We are here to fish, not sleep. We gathered up our packs, helped load the garbage into the skiffs, and pushed off from the island. “Now, my friend,” said Coki over the roar of the outboard engine, “we go for tarpon.”

The easiest way to fly-fish for bonefish is to stand knee-deep in clear water over a sandy bottom, moving parallel to the shore as the school of bones move. The most difficult way to catch bones with a fly is to fish from the nose of a skiff in muddy water dotted with young mangroves. If you are lucky enough not to land a fly in the swaying arms of the mangroves themselves and to actually hook a fish then you have to contend with the bone wrapping the line around and around a juvenile bush until the line breaks. It’s a frustrating way to fish.

Yesterday Nick and I were out fishing with Keko in one of those difficult patches of water where small mangroves rise up out of the water like weeds in an abandoned lot. Nick did a good job casting where Keko wanted him to, avoiding this mangrove and that until he was able to hook a bone. The fish took off with his line, as they are want to do, and it wasn’t two minutes before it had wrapped itself around not just one but two small mangroves.

Keko didn’t hesitate for a second. As soon as he saw that the fish was stuck and about to break the line, he jumped out of the boat and went after it. Now this may sound easy to do but it’s not. For one thing the bottom was extremely gooey and after every other step, Keko would sink down into the muck. For another thing, we were perched over turtle grass so he couldn’t really see the bottom. There might be jellyfish floating a few feet below the surface or a stingray or two gliding just off the bottom. Or he could step on a spiky conch shell or a hunk of dead coral. It’s treacherous out there.

No matter. Nick had a good-size bone on the line that was fouled in a bush and Keko was going to go rescue it. With one hand holding Nick’s line and the other outstretched for balance, Keko forged ahead until he’d reached the first mangrove the fish had gone around. He carefully followed the line around the bush and lifted it free. Then he headed at a 90 degree angle towards the second mangrove where the fish was really tangled good. Following the line, he untangled it until he came to the fish. He reached down in the muddy water and brought it up. It was a monster. Then, after he’d cleared the line, he released it and instructed Nick to start reeling in fast. Nick did as he was told and a few minutes later the bone, which Keko estimated to be between five and six pounds was at the boat. You can watch the whole thing on the video above.

Hardy was feeling pretty damn good about himself on Sunday after landing several bones and a tarpon, his second of the trip. Actually, everyone had a fine day. Cam got four bones, Nick had a couple as well and a barracuda, and Greg got a nice-sized yellowjack which he brought back for dinner. When Hardy has had a particularly good day, as he did yesterday, he likes to gather his friends around him and wax on about how fine life can be. “Enjoy it, lads,” he’ll say. “Carpe diem.”

Usually after a day of fishing we sit around the lounge area of the Avalon. Suliet will make us cocktails—a different one every night—and then bring up one of Eduardo’s pizzas for an appetizer. But yesterday we finished fishing a little earlier than usual and it was still a very fine evening, calm and warm with no wind, so Hardy rounded up the group, grabbed the cigars and pizza, and headed up to the very top of the boat where everyone could sit around smoking their Cohibas and watching the sunset.

I’d forgotten to take sunscreen out with me in the afternoon and so was feeling a little dry and crispy and decided I’d let the boys have their cigars while I spread out on one of the wicker lounges and just relaxed. Suliet came out from the crew quarters and joined me and then Eric, the boat’s captain came out as well. This is rare. We have conversations with the crew all week long, of course, but seldom is there an intersection of work and pleasure where you can actually sit down with a couple of crew members and have a conversation.

Suliet wanted to know how the trip was going so far and if there was anything the crew could do, now or in the future, that would make the experience even better. I told her we were all very happy being on the Avalon and felt that we not only had gotten the best guides we’d ever had but also the best overall crew. And it was true. Eric speaks a little English but Suliet asked my permission to translate what I said into Spanish for him. He listened to her carefully and nodded, pleased.

“Now I’ve got a question for you,” I said. “Would you mind telling me who the spy is on the boat?”

“Excuse me?” she said, thinking perhaps she hadn’t heard me properly. “The spy?”

“At first we thought it might be Coki,” I told her, “but he’s too good a guide and fisherman to have time for spying so now we think it must be Leissan.”

Leissan was like an assistant on the boat. I don’t know what his exact title was. He was just one of the guys in the background who did whatever was asked of him from hosing down the dive equipment to bringing up platters of food from the galley. He was also extremely buff and had a bearing about him as if he’d been in the military at one time—or still was.

“You think Leissan is a spy?” Suliet said, laughing.

“Well, or maybe Jorge.”

Suliet started to laugh in that way when something is so funny that even if you try to stop laughing you can’t. “Please,” she said when she could catch her breath, “may I tell the captain this?”

Sure, I told her. Still laughing, she told the captain that we thought Leissan was a Cuban spy. The captain started laughing just as hard as Suliet. They’d look at each other, say Leissan’s name, and then bend over in fits of hilarity. The captain said something to Suliet and she said to me, “Please, he would like to know why you think Leissan is a spy.”

I told her that we figured every boat had to have a spy on it. Otherwise, what would prevent the crew from taking the boat to Miami. Surely there must be somebody on board associated with the military or security to make sure the crew stayed in line and also to hear what the American customers were up to. Suliet found this so hilarious that she started laughing and crying at the same time. She was laughing so hard I was afraid she was going to throw up. She translated it for Eric and he also got tears in his eyes laughing.

When they could finally breath again, Suliet assured me there were no spies on the boat. Particularly not Leissan. They do not need spies, she said. We all have families. Kids. You could leave us alone on this boat for a month and we wouldn’t go anywhere she said. Besides, we all like our jobs. And we make good money. And then she said the word “spy” again and started laughing. When she had partially composed herself again, she asked me if I would mind if she went and told Leissan and the others this story. “It is a very funny story,” she assured me.

And then she and the captain headed back towards the crew quarters, both of them giggling like little kids, anxious to go tell the Cuban crew the hilarious story of how the Americans think there is a spy on the boat.

I was just glad I could entertain them.

Like I’ve said, all the guides are extremely competitive. Just as we make little bets about who will catch the first fish, the biggest fish, etc., I’m pretty sure the guides make similar bets amongst themselves about us. Did Coki win some bet for helping me land my first tarpon? I don’t know for certain but it wouldn’t surprise me.

I’ve also mentioned how passionate Coki is about the fishing. If you screw up, he’ll let you know. He can’t help it. He figures it’s his job to get you to the fish and then it’s your job to catch the damn things. And he’s right, of course.

Yesterday was an extremely frustrating day. Cam and I had paired up with Coki as our guide. So far everybody on the boat except for Cam has caught a tarpon. So just as Coki poured all his efforts the other day into getting me my first tarpon, he assured Cam in the morning that he was going to catch a tarpon.

But we were having one of those off days when no matter what you do or where you go, the fish just are not there. Cam and I fished all morning long and didn’t even see a fish. I’d stand up on the nose of the boat for half an hour or forty-five minutes, my line slack at my feet, and when I got tired, I’d switch places with Cam and he’d do the same. Hardly a cast was made.

The afternoon wasn’t any better. Plus it was even hotter than usual out on the water, with not even a hint of a breeze, and by four or five we both sort of felt like we’d had enough and were ready to head back to Avalon I. But Coki was not ready to give up. He insisted that he knew a “secret spot,” somewhere the other guides didn’t know about and for sure we would catch some bonefish and then he would take us to another great spot and for sure Cam would get his tarpon.

Well, what could we do? We headed for Coki’s secret spot. With the sun just blazing down on top of us, we headed east through the mangroves until we got to a section of shallows covered in turtle grass. It would be difficult to spot fish in the turtle grass but the area certainly did look ripe for bonefish.

Cam got up on the nose of the skiff and stood there under the blistering sun as Coki poled through the shallows. For half an hour he poled the boat and we didn’t see a single fish. Then finally he spotted a small school about a hundred feet in front of us. The only problem was that the bones were in water that was no more than a foot deep and the tide was going out. But Coki was not to be denied. He poled and he poled, grunting and sweating, sometimes getting the skiff stuck in the muddy bottom and we would rock the boat from side to side until we were free and moving again. Finally, the boat would go no further. It was too shallow. The bones were still there but it would take some tremendous casting by Cam to reach them. He tried, and tried, and tried some more but he could never quite get the fly far enough. And eventually the school swam away.

Meanwhile, the tide had continued to go out. We were now so stuck in the shallow water that Coki had to get out of the boat in his bare feet and, sinking midway to his thighs, try to push us out. But it was no go. So Cam go out as well and with him on one side of the boat and Coki on the other, the two of them tromped through the muddy bottom pushing the boat while I stood as far on the nose of the skiff as possible to get the stern out of the mud. It was tremendously difficult work. And we had to go much further than anyone had imagined. In all, Coki and Cam pushed the skiff over the shallow muddy bottom for fifteen or twenty minutes until we were finally in deep enough water to get back in the boat. At which point Cam said he didn’t care about any more fishing for the day, he was going for a swim. He stripped down to his boxers and dove into the water, floating on his back like a turtle in the cool, clear water. We were done for the day.

I mentioned yesterday how, while fishing for tarpon, I ended up catching a 15 pound red snapper. We threw it in the hold on top of the ice cooling down our beers and brought it back to the Avalon and gave it to the cook, Eduardo, who looks like he’s not old enough to shave yet alone be a great cook. You know, when we fished from the Halcon I always thought our cook on that boat, Pichi, was a fine cook but Eduardo puts him to shame. So far on this trip we’ve had the best meals we’ve ever had anywhere in Cuba. Lobster every night, sometimes cooked simply with a little garlic butter, sometimes in a curry sauce, and always there is some whole grilled fish, and we have had excellent soups and sashimi and a marvelous roasted lentil dish in a spicy red sauce.

Anyway, when we got back to the Avalon the other night all the other boys were topside drinking their gin and tonics and talking about the day’s fishing. I came up the stairs carrying the large red snapper by one hand, holding it up for them to see. “Look what I brought us back for dinner,” I said. Everyone got their cameras out to take some shots of me holding the snapper and then I gave it to Suliet to take down to the galley to Eduardo.

A couple of hours later, Suliet announced that dinner was ready and we headed for the large teak table where we take our meals and then Eduardo came out carrying a silver platter with my grilled red snapper on it. I can’t tell you how pleased I was. I cut into it and took the first filet and then passed it around. Suliet poured us all a glass of Chilean Sauvignon Blanc and Fletch made a toast to the great day of fishing we had and then everyone dove in to the red snapper. It was, without a doubt, the finest fish I’d ever tasted in my life. Perhaps because I’d caught it myself just a few hours earlier, perhaps because Eduardo really does know his way around seafood. Anyway, it was a most memorable meal following a most memorable day of fishing.